True Nobles
by H8orade
Summary: A rabbit seeks a glorious public works project, a badger seeks refinement, a wolfess seeks her portion, and a bear seeks purity. But as rot twists the King, so too does it twist the desires of even the most noble heroes.
1. Chapter 1

" _I stand upon the ramparts, dressed for battle_

 _Mine axe at hand, my brothers to my right,_

 _Thine King and Country calls upon us nobles,_

 _Be fortified through this oppress'ed night"_

 _-The Great Warrior-Poet, Horace, 'Letter to the Men who Stand Guard', stanza 1_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1: From Ashes we Were Created**_

Somewhere, in the far off reaches of Chateau du Lapins, where the fertile countryside settled into the fortified mountains, a small rabbit opened up a parchment and spread it across the table. With a look of determination on her face, she reached for a small, slender rod of lead, and set to work drawing lines.

She was not happy. And her father seemed to understand this as he set foot into the room.

"Elyssia?" The old man mumbled, taking a moment to look over her shoulder at the progress she had made over the three days prior. "Elyssia, dear, why do you seem so downtrodden? The Duke of Chateau du Lapins himself has seen a copy of your work so far, and he's more than satisfied. You're becoming more skilled than even I am, and at such a young age, so what's bothering you?"

The young girl set her pen aside, clutching her fists and taking a deep breath to calm herself. "Everything is fine, father" she lied through gritted teeth.

"Everything is not fine. Is there something wrong with the statue that you need help solving? Maybe-"

"There is something wrong with the statue father!" She erupted, pounding her fist on the table and standing up to turn to the older rabbit standing behind her. "I go to the Duke, I go to his palace and lobby directly to him with ancient roman documents, documents I had to have transported directly from _Rome_ , and I lobby for three whole days to make him commission an aqueduct system so that _maybe_ we can have running water and, I don't know, perhaps a sewer system so we don't need to use chamber pots like savages! And in the meantime, we could probably get an irrigation system so that the farmers don't need to rely on perfect rains all the time! But no, what does the Duke do? He gives me a wave of the hand and commissions me to build this… this wasteful statue!" She threw down a small clay pot full of pencils and scattered the contents across the table, glaring at the plans for her statue as if they were some profane thing. "What did Cosimo d'Alucard even do to deserve this statue?"

"You don't know what Cosimo d'Alucard did? Elyssia, you must know that he was the one who signed the treatise with King Auguste the Magnificent in the year of our Lord-"

"I know what he did, father…" she sighed. "He surrendered the rabbit clan lands to Armello. I just don't know why we're focusing on commemorating someone who surrendered instead of using our skills, using MY skills to focus on actually improving the lives of the rabbits in this kingdom." She sighed, ultimately settling on slumping back down in her chair with her eyebrows furrowed and her arms and legs crossed.

She soon felt a soft paw on her shoulder. "There now, daugher. You _are_ improving the lives of Armello's citizens. Think of it this way, by building this statue, you're letting more common people know about a vital part of Chateau du Lapins' history." The old hare massaged his daughter's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. "You're contributing greatly to education, and you know what I always say. Education-"

"-is the floodgate to knowledge otherwise trapped forever. I know" she droned, relaxing only slightly in her father's grip. She opened her mouth for a moment, but ultimately decided it'd be no use to protest further. The statue would have to get done eventually, she supposed, and she'd rather get it out of the way sooner. She picked up one of the rugged pencils and got back to work.

Her father, seeing his daughter's distress, kissed the top of her head and walked to the nearby hearth, throwing a log into the fire to keep it warm. "If it means anything to you, I'll make haste to the Archduke himself tomorrow with your plans. Maybe he'll have the good sense to commission this aqueduct" he suggested as he stoked the fire.

"Archduke Lafayette the Drunk? Sense doesn't fit in the same sentence as his name" she spat under her breath.

"It's a better chance than if we did nothing at all. Do you still have the roman papers?"

"No. I had to ship them back to Rome once I was done referencing them. I have a rough sketch of the plans in my dresser, though."

"Smart girl" he said, smiling and clicking his teeth. "You're a fine successor to my legacy. Never forget that."

This brought the spirits of the small bunny up, if only for a moment, bringing a slight smile to her face. "Thanks, father."

And so, the young rabbit went back about her business, begrudgingly sketching plans for a statue she didn't really care about, and dreaming of a project that could make her name go down forever in the annals of history.

But while this young girl spent her time looking forward to the future, her opposite, a much older man, was sitting in an alehouse alone nursing his mead and looking back on his past.

* * *

The old honey badger sat with his ink and parchment at the bar. There was a half finished stanza sitting in front of him, but he had written himself into a corner with the pentameter. Nothing he could think of would make the verse work, and the rough, inappropriate chatter of the alehouse certainly didn't help.

"Madam, i'sertainly think you as a fine specimen" one particularly drunk fox stammered loudly at the stool next to Horace. The bear barmaiden the fox referred to simply shot him a wink, taking the comment in stride.

"Why thank you very much, sir."

"I'ma not kidding, ma-" he started, pausing to burp. "..madam. Yous'should be in a f… aff... A fine painting in a royal _gallery._ I want… I want… I want YOU to come to my house, an' be the model for my paintings"

"Stop telling women you're an artist, Pierre! You're a porter, for christ's sake!" An irritated doe shouted from a booth across the room.

The drunken fox turned his head, violently enough to rock him off his stool and send him and his wine tumbling to the ground in a comical crash. "Whoss'at to question my art!"

"We all know you just say you're a painter because you want to look at the naked girls!"

"Why, I's never 'a let a scound… a sss….SCOUNDREL such as'ou give me such an insult!"

A cup of wine then flew across the air, and after hearing the crash of several tables and the screaming of bloodthirsty bar patrons, Horace had decided that the poetry would have to wait. Setting down his pen, he instead picked up the old trusty battleaxe that he kept at his side as he calmly, yet imposingly strutted to the fight going on, and once the doe had thrown the drunkard fox off of her, he swung his axe directly between the two, the blade digging into the wooden floor just an inch away from the fox's tail and the doe's paw. "Care to lend an old soldier some peace and quiet?"

"Ho- Horatio! Why, i'iddin't mean to 'isturb you sir! I jus'ad a moment of artissic vision, you know!"

"Well, so did I. I was thinking of writing a particularly _artistic_ sonnet about an old honey badger saving an unsuspecting young lady from a dirty, foxy scoundrel" he spat, grabbing the fox by his tail and carrying him like a sack of potatoes kicking and screaming to the door.

As Horatio opened the door, the fox protested vehemently. "I'LLAVE YOU KNOW THAT I'S A FAMOUS NAME IN'THE ART COMMUNITY!"

"Pierre? Never saw you in a gallery."

A look of pure offense crossed the fox's face. "HOW DARE YOU-" he started, being cut off by Horatio clutching at his throat and walking out the door with him, slamming it behind him as he turned the fox to look him in the eye.

"Now. Ten pieces of gold. Give me that, and I'll drop you instead of kicking you across the street."

"Well'as not very poetic!"

"If you read any of my work, you'd find the title 'Warrior-Poet'. Congratulations, you get to meet the warrior today. Gold. Now."

"Wait, wait! I on'y have nine pieces a' gold!"

"Then nine pieces it'll be. Hand it over."

The drunk fox sighed, pulling his coin purse out of his pockets and dropping it into Horatio's open hand. "'Ere… please don't hurt me, sir…"

"Smart fox." True to his word, Horatio let go of the fox's throat and let him fall to the floor. "Go home" he ordered bluntly, before entering the alehouse again and slamming the door behind him.

The badger left the nine pieces of gold on the counter to pay for the damage, and collected his quill and parchment as he walked up the stairs to the room he had rented for the night. A drunk sheep stumbled down the hall past him, with what the old badger could only assume to be a prostitute in tow. He opened up the door to his room. A single lit candle gave a low light to the otherwise dark and oppressive night.

It was times like these where he took a moment to reflect. The badger, after all, was a thinker, a feeler, and a poet. He couldn't help the ruminations that would act as the backdrop for his life.

"Another night alone, in an unfamiliar bed, drinking unfamiliar ale" he sighed out, taking a seat on the desk facing the window and grabbing a fresh parchment. He let his gaze fall out the window where the village of Amsterhof was bathed with the soft glow of lantern and candle. Other than that, however, the only light he could see was the stars. The royal palace of Armello which he held so dear to his heart was beyond the mountains, where the horizon blocked the view of even its highest rampart.

But the old croak knew how to write. So he did. The old man dropped the poetry, writing instead a letter to his old friend, the King, to inquire about his health and to see how he was managing with his royal business. Maybe even to spend some time reminiscing about their shared glory days, when the armor they bore didn't feel so heavy, and when the toll of combat hadn't ground their optimism down quite as much.

* * *

But some animals had yet to discover the burden that the armor bore. The cost of every arrow loosed from a bow hadn't crossed the mind of the young and vivacious wolfess who stalked through the forests of Les Montagnes. The biting cold, the howling wind, and the thick fog, despite their harshest determination, were unable to shake the spirit of River as she floated low to the ground, stalking her quarry: a fowlbird that had strayed too far into the hunting lands of her village.

She stayed perfectly silent, discipline honing in as she patiently waited for the dumb animal to strut to whatever gap in the thick forest she could find. The bow was drawn a while ago. Her arm, growing weary of holding the taut line, forced her brain to search for any opening she could get, and soon, she got it. The flightless bird finally stood between two trees, the wood almost framing it like a perfect painting, a prize to be offered up to anyone who could take the proper shot. River let loose the taut string, and before the arrow had even left the bow, she knew she would hit her target.

The tension in the bow violently snapped into a resting position, and almost immediately, the fowl dropped, an arrow loosed clean into its neck. The perfect shot. River wasted no time rushing over to the animal and picking it up, automatically making the walk back home.

The snow was falling violently that night, and the tracks she had made on the way out had long since been covered up. However, this was a non-issue for the experienced ranger. She quickly found her way back to the village of Les Montagnes, instinct guiding her home as the familiar thatch roofs of the small hunting village peaked over the treetops. But winter had not been kind to Les Montagnes.

River trudged through the soppy slush that the snow formed in the few cobblestone streets, unable to help her urge to clutch her jacket tighter around her. Even her winter coat was not enough to fight off the amount of snow she found herself in. She was relieved, then, when she opened the door to her home and found that the hearth was burning. "Mother… I'm back with our catch" she said, poking her head through the door.

"Come in, dear" she said, sitting on the wooden chair next to the hearth. "I wouldn't want you to go numb out there."

"It's not too bad outside, mother."

"I'm sure it isn't" the old wolfess replied, standing up. "Let me cook that for you-"

"No, mother, you rest. I can handle a bird, I've cooked it a million times."

"And I've cooked it a billion times, dear" she said, putting the case to rest with her seniority. "You don't need to do everything, River."

"I know, mother" she started, putting her bow and quill down beside the door, moving to place the fowl on the table. "So, what did we get in our rations today?"

"Oh… Dear…"

River froze for a moment. "Mother. What did we get in our rations today?" She repeated, this time more firmly.

"We weren't given a ration" the old woman replied timidly.

River stayed silent, glaring at her before a look of fury overtook her eyes and she reached for the dagger on her table.

"River, don't you dare lose your temper in my household!"

"I'm not losing my temper, I'm getting what Armello promised us!"

"You have a dagger in your hand and you look like you're going to kill somebody! I raised you better than to throw a hissy fit at one missed ration, young lady!"

"One ration a week, that was their contract!" River yelled back. "They told me that if I worked as a ranger for their Dukes and Earls, they'd give you one ration a week!"

"And it's the middle of winter in Les Montagnes! The roads are probably closed up, and you know how the Royal Guard caravans can get bogged down in the snow!"

"This is the second week, mother! If they expect me to work faithfully in the service of Armello, they'd better give us what we were promised!" she said in finality, throwing the door open and slamming it shut behind her as she stormed furiously down the street, dagger brandished in the moonlight. The door to the one room cabin she inhabited flew open as her mother stepped out. "Don't you dare do anything stupid, River!"

The wolfess refused to listen, storming down the small street to the royal guard bunkhouse, sheathing the dagger and instead choosing to pound on the door with severe force.

The marked increase in aggression prompted a clanging of metal behind the door, followed shortly by the large dog throwing the door open and raising a small candle to her face. The dog was clearly worn out from a lack of sleep. Being on the night shift hadn't helped his attitude either. "What is it, villager?" he groaned, full plate armor doing little to aid his wakefulness.

"Let _me_ ask _you_ something, what is _this?_ " she ordered, pointing to a letter in her pocket which the soldier begrudgingly took from her hands and opened up to read.

"Let it be known to all the nobility and knights under the service of both the Wolf Clan and Armello as a whole that River Allemond, hailing from Provins du Les Montagne, is an official ranger of the wolf clan, and for her service to the king she shall be awarded, in addition to her hunter's winter ration, a year round ration once per week containing no less than five pounds of meat per day for her sickly mother. Marked with the imprint of the ring worn by Thane of the Wolf Clan."

"It's been two weeks since my mother last got her ration, and I've had to escort the Duke of Ypres AND his son through Les Montagnes since then!" she spat at him, full of anger and spite.

The guard removed his helmet and looked at the letter again. "You said two weeks?"

"A fortnight, yes."

The guard rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Come with me. I'll see if there's been any path closures preventing the shipment. Stay quiet so the other guards can get some rest" the guard grumbled.

River huffed under her breath as she followed the knight inside, closing the door behind her. The guard held open the door to his office for her, gesturing for her to go inside first. After shooting him a look of pure anger, she obliged and took a seat at the desk before the knight sat across from her, opening one small drawer and going through all of his letters in the past two weeks. As he rifled through the letters and their titles, a look of increased perplexion crossed his face. By the time he had gotten to the end of the stack, he furrowed his brow. "I can't find any road closures, ranger."

"That's because there are none! If there were, I would have known about it. Do you know why?" She interrogated.

"Because-"

"Because _I_ report the closures, because _I_ am the only ranger within twenty miles of this place! So if there was a closure, _I_ would be the first to know about it."

"Madam, calm down-"

"No, I won't calm do-"

"By the authority vested in me by the King of Armello, I order you to calm down!" He exclaimed, raising his voice and standing up to look down on her.

River huffed, narrowing her eyes in anger and looking back up at him. "As you wish, sir" she begrudgingly droned.

"Now" the knight said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Clearly, there's been a discrepancy. Perhaps there's an order from the king we haven't received yet, but seeing as it'll take a week for any letter to reach here from Provins Royale, I don't think there's any way to get an immediate answer."

"And what about my mother? Is she just going to starve while I'm pulling escort duty?"

"The cellar to this bunkhouse has stores of cold meat. I'm issuing you a pass now to take five pounds a week out of it" the knight said, taking a candle off of the mantle and dripping some of the hot red wax onto the now folded letter. "Give this to your mother." The dog ordered calmly, stamping the hot wax with his ring, the official seal of the king's guard. "I'll send a letter to Duke Jean-Christophe immediately, and I should get his reply in about three weeks."

"Three weeks!?"

"Or, you can go to Duke Jean-Christophe on your own and find out what's going on in person. That'd be only a week and a half."

She sighed, looking down to the floor in defeat. "I guess I'll go to Duke Jean-Christophe."

Thankfully, the emotion of the situation wasn't lost on the young man behind the desk. Sensing that River was distraught, he put down the pen and looked her in the eyes. "Madam, I understand this ration is important for you and your family. I want to help you as much as I can" he said. "What is your mother's name?"

"Evergreen" she said, looking back up to him with eyes that seemed not helpless, but frustrated and defeated.

"Would you like a guard member to check on her once a day while you're out?" He asked tenderly.

"Yes, sir. And send for a mage should her condition worsen."

"We can do that. Now, you should get your ration and get home to rest before going to the Duke. Let me take you to the cellar."

With no further delay, the guard unlocked the cellar and grabbed River five pounds of turkey in a wooden crate, kept cold and fresh by the winter. The wolfess thanked him for his help, and went down the road back home. After putting the turkey in her own cellar, she slowly opened the door to the cabin and tenderly stepped in.

Her mother was long since asleep, but there was a bowl of hot stew waiting for her at the table. Quietly, she ate, and as she swallowed the hot cooking of her mother, she couldn't help but look outside the window at the stars to wonder what had possibly happened to her ration, and pray that whatever it was, the problem got fixed soon.

* * *

But not all the people of Armello had the luxury of not knowing what was going on. Sana, was in the most dangerous reaches of Armello when she had first felt it. An unknown land, where mages and priestesses could practice the magic of the Wyld, and could meditate and pray to the less accepted gods of the pagans who had once ruled the land.

It was here where the bear sat to meditate, the ancient art form gripping her thoughts as she laid under the thick forest canopy, close to the foliage where she could connect with every living thing. Entranced by the ancient magic, she focused deep within, where the innermost contents of her very soul laid, and pulled out of her the energy from her own spirit, the life giving power of nature. Delicately and softly, she brought her bear paws to her snout, and breathed out of her mouth a tangible, solid mist of golden light. The Wyld stuck to her paws, and with the focus that only a deeply skilled master of the magic arts could muster, she concentrated.

" _I am not my own being…"_

" _...I am only part of a much bigger earth…"_

" _...and as the earth gave me my spirit…"_

" _... so do I give thine spirit back to the earth…"_

The substance of her very spirit flowed off of her hands, instead travelling to the object of her focus… the young flower that had began to wilt in the cold of winter. Gilding in a layer of light around the wilted flower, the energy she had pulled from her own spirit began to soak into the dying thing, opening its buds back up and mending its broken stem.

With one deep breath, the bear brought her paws together and exhaled, allowing her focus to now be broken again, ending the ritual as she opened her eyes to stare at the flower she had resurrected. A contented smile crossed the priestess's face as she moved a single claw over to the flower, pushing up a single petal that was out of place. However, no longer did it take her to admire this moment of beauty than it did take her to notice the wind picking up out of the east. This was no normal wind. As she gazed to the treetops above her, she noticed how the stars were blotted out of the sky, and in their place, a sickly purple heat lightning had taken residence in a thick black cloud layer. She frantically looked down to find a mist creeping through the forest. Picking up her staff immediately, she pointed it at the flower she had resurrected, and with her concentration, quickly flowed some of her spirit down the staff to create a protective barrier around the little flower before bringing the staff above her own head in one fluid motion and spinning it around her.

In a vivid flash of light, an orb formed, encompassing her in a protective layer of Wyld, strong enough to keep her alive in the thick black fog that rushed towards her like a wave crashing on land. Immediately, Sana sought to run from the forest as fast as possible, dodging and weaving between branches as the fog enveloped her, chasing her faster than she could run from it. And that is when she identified what it was.

The dark black fog, the precarious purple hue of the heat lightning, and now, the way the trees of the forest seemed to grow purple scars, tumors, and infections, betrayed the identity of the pestilence that was coming to plague the land.

Sana had no time to give it a name now, however. She had only time to run, and pray to the earth she faithfully served as priestess of to be spared from it.

The more she ran, the more destruction she could see it causing. Never, ever had there been an outbreak this deadly force in such scale, such capacity that it seemed to not only destroy the forest, but ruin every living thing within it. As she ran, birds pathetically tried to fly with her, but as their wings became tumorous growths of purple and ash, they fell to the ground, left only to writhe and rot as the fog engulfed the last energy they had. Sana felt like she needed to retch. But she averted her eyes, holding her gall down her throat and persisting through the smog oppressed forest, the thickness of the smoke too great to see anywhere past her pristine shield of Wyld.

Suddenly, as if liberated from a nightmare, a burst of clear vision graced Sana's eyes as she tumbled a few steps, surprised and even made nauseated by the sudden ability to see. Taking only a moment to catch her breath, she looked behind her.

The clouds had stopped, hanging in the air mysteriously as if they had hit a barrier known only to God. The sky, now only half obscured by the fog, now provided her the stars she needed to navigate. Something had gone incredibly wrong, she was sure of it. And unfortunately, she feared, it would be a long time before this new dark energy could be purged from Armello, at least in any complete capacity.

"The rot… It's coming…"


	2. Chapter 2

" _Barbarians are standing at the gatehouse,_

 _And here come they to squash the kingdom's light,_

 _Make ready, both thou weapons and thou hearts now_

 _Be at my side through this opress'ed night."_

 _-The Great Warrior-Poet, Horace, 'Letter to the Men who Stand Guard', stanza 2_

The journey to Perceé, according to the memories the young rabbit had of visiting there as a child, was one full day, with a good chance of arriving by nightfall assuming a departure in the earliest hours of the morning. It was a journey the bunny always hated making.

It wasn't the people or the food that put her mind to fury when she set eyes on the place. The area enjoyed a rather consistent yield of grain, and this meant that the place wasn't in abject poverty either. Neither were the inhabitants of the modestly sized town particularly rude. But the place, the bunny thought, had such a complete lack of refinement or culture that it was sickeningly boring for her cultured mind to have even an ounce of respect for. The town was, by all measures, just another simple town, full of simple farmers and simple tradesmen performing the same simple routine every day, not one of them aspiring to be anything more than a local priest at best. It maddened her to her core to visit this place.

But if anything could make her overcome her objective hatred of the town, it was the fact that her best shot at unveiling her plans for a more refined city was to visit the Archduke Lafayette who lived in the square of the infuriatingly simple village. After all, if she wanted to bring refinement and a higher standard of living to the people of Armello, what better place to start than with a culture of simple farmers who didn't think twice about using chamber pots?

At least, that's what she told herself as she threw her belongings into her leather bag, frowning and furrowing her brow in a determined anger as her father watched from his bedside.

"Elyssia! Elyssia, come now, there's no need to be so angry about it all!"

"Father.." the young doe said, glancing at the ceiling and clenching her paw shut to contain her anger. "...I am not angry"

"You're always angry about going to Percee. I remember you as a child, Elyssia!"

"I'm not a child anymore, now, am I?" She spat back, hastily throwing a pair of leather gloves into her bag as if it was rubbish to be discarded.

The elder had decided to set down his bubble tea and look to his daughter. "Perhaps not, but you still get frustrated very easily. I can see it in you. It's really quite clear, anyone can tell-"

"I know, father" she stated with agitation, rolling her eyes. "I-"

"Even the most socially inept-"

"That's it, I'm going" the girl said, throwing the fully packed bag over her shoulders and moving to her father's bedside, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "I hope your back gets better, father."

"You know me, Elyssia, I'll be fine. Most tasks around the home should be no worry for me, and I'll take a look over your plans for the statue while you're gone. I just can't leave on a day's journey with this back" the old rabbit said, wrapping his arms around his daughter in return. "You go off and build great things now, young one…"

"Oh, father, I'll only be gone for two days" she said. "You know the Archduke will be too drunk to sign papers for a contract, never mind even talking about an architectural project of this scale."

"Don't go losing your hope before the journey has even started" he said, kissing her on the forehead and resting himself back on the bed. "Luck may yet be on your side."

The bunny forced herself to smile, if only to make her father feel better about the whole situation. "Thanks… Goodbye, father" she said, turning about to head for the door fully dressed and with her leather bag in tow.

"Don't forget your measuring staff in case the archduke wants you to start construction immediately!" the father mused. "I love you, Elyssia!"

Elyssia grabbed the brass and wooden tool that stood almost to her height and set for the door, opening it with an agitated sigh. "I love you too, father!" she said on her way out the door, preferring to get this tedious chore over sooner rather than later.

And it was, in fact, a tedious chore for the bunny. Despite the beautiful walk along the countryside, and a normally enjoyable solitude (save for the one or two convoys of King's Guards that roamed through the narrow country roads), the bunny spent the whole time focusing on how fruitless the whole exercise would most likely turn out to be in the end.

It was well known by then that the Archduke Lafayette was a drunkard. Tales of servants finding him nursing bottles of ale and wine, too drunk to speak, throughout the alehouses of the town had spread like wildfire through the entire rabbit clan lands. At this point, some were starting to send word of even more nefarious rumors. Tales of him romancing prostitutes, abusing arsenic for a quick high, and challenging others into frequent sword duels out of misplaced anger were starting to become less and less uncommon. But more than this, the young rabbit was sure the Archduke wouldn't accept her project due to one key factor.

The city he lived in.

The thoughts always drifted back to that plain and traditionalist city. Simple limestone one-room houses, rotting thatch rooftops and open gutters where sewage flowed freely… At least Chateau du Lapins had tried to appear clean, this place was just outright archaic. If this is where the _Archduke_ lived, she figured he wasn't much of a public works supporter.

By the time the young rabbit had made her way to Perceé, dusk was starting to set in. She figured it was useless stopping for dinner along the way. In and out was the way she always did things, and this useless chore would be no exception.

The town was as it had always been. Nothing to look at, see, or really do for a visitor. With this in mind, she made directly for the hall where the Archduke ruled over the rabbit clan. Her fingers gripped her papers a little tighter as the wind whipped around her, begging her to release her papers to the world. As she made her way to the top of the steps, the two Royal guards standing on either side of the large wooden door crossed their Halberds, denying her entry.

The more senior of the two then spoke. "Halt, rabbit! What business have you with the Archduke?"

"Important business" Elyssia stated, an edge in her voice directed at the two armored retrievers.

"That's nowhere near specific enough" the dog replied in return.

"If you must know, I'm here to plead a public works project" she spat back, standing up on her toes as she puffed her chest out, trying rather whimsically to match their height. "So unless you'd like to keep guarding an ungodly hellhole where you're safer drinking wine instead of water and throw your waste on the street, I'd suggest you let me through!"

The guard huffed, displeased with her tone, but retracting his Halberd anyway. "I'd suppose that's reason enough. But don't expect too much out of the Archduke."

"Trust me, I wasn't" she explained, pushing past the guards and opening the door.

"I'd suggest changing your tone, too, rabbit. Other knights won't take kindly to such disrespect" he huffed out before slamming the door to the hall behind her.

Elyssia couldn't help but jump a bit at the sudden slam, something Archduke Lafayette, who was sitting on his throne at the end of the hall, took note of.

"Don't mind Sir Encifer. Come in, state your business" he boredly stated, gesturing to the spot in front of him.

Elyssia had noticed something about this gentleman that was rather off, or rather, something she didn't expect.

Archduke Lafayette was entirely sober, even regal appearing. His dress was fashionable and high class, a well maintained coat of his arms of achievement, two opposing spears on a field of purple and gold. The fur on the old hare was a brilliant shade of greyed brown, brushed through thoroughly and shining even in the dull light of the torches. And through it all, a faded scar on the right forearm told the tale of a judicial duel won very narrowly, with the utmost skill.

He was by no means the debaucherous drunkard she'd expected, and it read on her face. "Uh… Sir, are you the Archduke Lafayette-"

"Yes, that is I. Take your time, things are slow at the moment."

Slow seemed to describe the room. Not much commotion, no mistress that she could see. Surprisingly calm, perhaps even a little somber. She had to take a moment to admit to herself that her father was right. She seemed to have gotten lucky.

"You come bearing parchments. Are you a messenger?"

"No, no, your highness" she said, snapping out of it. "I am an architect. Elyssia from the Chateau. I've come to propose a project."

"Very well, architect. Do you have drafts?"

"Rough ones, your majesty."

"Bring them here."

Elyssia complied, gently handing the papers off to the noble hare. The Archduke, donning a pair of reading glasses, took a moment to glance the paper over. "What is it I'm looking at, Madam Elyssia?" he inquired as he continued to study the paper over.

"It's a sewer and aqueduct system, your highness. For Chateau du Lapins."

The hare looked over the papers for a few more seconds, an impressed look crossing his face. "Madam Elyssia, I must first say that I am thoroughly impressed with your work-"

"Thank you, my lord!" She said with a flash of excitement.

"-But… I'm afraid I cannot accept this offer"

"...Sir?"

"There are reasons beyond my control. I simply cannot give you the funds to construct a sewer system" he explained calmly and with sadness.

"But, sir, this would change the face of the rabbit clan, of all of Armello, forever!"

"I understand-"

"You don't seem to understa-"

"ELYSSIA!" The king yelled, as two Guards bursted out into the room, lending a sigh of restraint from the archduke. "Return to your posts, guards."

The guards obeyed, returning to their posts soon enough with only a slight hint of worry.

"Elyssia… I have some _other work_ I would like to commission you for. However, it is a military project, so the business should be conducted in secret" Lafayette explained with a pained restraint.

Elyssia, taking it as an insult to herself, rolled her eyes and sighed. "...I'll consider it, I suppose"

"Very smart" the archduke responded, finally content. "I'll see to this business in my office. Right this way, Madam"

"As you wish, my lord" she begrudgingly said, fully expecting him to either roll out some vanity statue or, even worse, try to fill her with wine and have his way. The stories she had heard of his drunkenness and carousing had still filled the back of her mind. When the archduke opened the doorway to reveal a bedchamber with a desk, she couldn't help, of course, but to grab her hidden dagger a little bit tighter.

Lafayette was no stranger to this, and as Elyssia shot him a suspicious look, he lead her in and shut the door behind her. "Elyssia, hand off the dagger."

"If you're going to try and conquer me like one of your mistresses, I-"

Archduke Lafayette was nothing short of shocked and offended, as he took a step back and tried to catch his breath. "M-mistresses? Elyssia, does this room looked dressed for mistresses?"

As Elyssia looked around, she could see that it wasn't dressed for mistresses at all. The red velvet tapestries normally surrounding the chambers of royalty had been replaced with black silk. The windows were shut to the light of the stars, giving the room a closed and dark look. Perhaps most somber of all, a framed portrait of a woman hung on the wall opposite the bed.

Based on her dress, it appeared to be a portrait of a woman on her wedding day, veiled in a thin black cloth.

It almost explained away the empty bottles of liquor and wine that occupied the desk. Just enough to make the situation of the Archduke's alcoholism clear to her. It was almost enough to make her feel a pang of pain for the older man, if she hadn't been too focused on her own pursuits.

After a quick sigh, the noble hare moved to start clearing the ragged desk of its alcohol and tattered parchments filled with notes of some somber thought or another. "Now, I tried to be subtle about it, but since you can't seem to see much past your own nose, allow me to spell it out for you, young architect"

Elyssia gasped in offense. "Can't see past my-"

"I want your construction project to get through! So, maybe, if you stop talking, I can explain my need to keep this behind closed doors and you can get your name set in stone, like you want. Does this sound fair?"

"... I'm listening."

The face on the old hare finally relaxed. "Good. Now, the reason I had to deny your project publicly was because there are prying ears in the great hall. Ears connected to the king."

"The king? What business has he with the inner workings of the rabbit clan?"

"I cannot state any reason with certainty. But every day, his orders get more and more irrational, and honestly, I am done listening to them. He gave an order, three months ago, to stop all funding to public works and instead put it into the military. Irrigation, wells, houses for the dying, all are only allowed the funds necessary to keep them maintained. But nothing for new construction."

"That… that makes no sense" Elyssia reasoned.

"Precisely. So, if I accepted your public works project in the great hall, the guards would have- pardon my language- ratted on me. And that would be no good. For either of us" he explained, taking the parchment out of her hands and unrolling it on the newly clear table.

"So you are building it! I'll make haste for-"

"Hold on. Not so fast. These plans are for the Chateau."

"...Yes?"

"I want to be sure that this is something I can do without the king noticing."

"W.. what are you trying to imply, exactly?"

"I'm saying that I want to run a small scale test, to make sure this can be done without getting caught before I run a major crime scheme. Is that too much to ask?"

Elyssia had to think on it for a moment. It made sense, sure. And it was more leeway now than she was ever going to get. "I suppose I can do this trial run. What does it require of me?"

"There are plans in the works for palisade walls around Percee, things I can build because they can be classified as 'military spending' and not public works. The original architect of these plans, unfortunately died of rot shortly after handing them over to me, but these plans and the amendments you make to them can soon bear your name. Provided, of course, you can weave a sewer system plan for Percee into them."

"Please, that's child's play!"

"I'm glad to hear it. Because you have one week to draft the plans. Full access to the measurements of my streets by the royal surveyors is granted to you in this letter" he explained, handing a signed letter to her hastily.

One week was a prospect that, no doubt, scared the bunny. Drafting the sewer system for Chateau took her three weeks, with generous help. However, she thought, Percee _was_ much smaller, and she didn't have to do the surveying by paw… "One week is nothing for a master architect like me."

The archduke looked up to her from his bent position with worry. "I hope your tongue is supported with your action, Elyssia, because if you're right, you'll create history, but if you're wrong… let's just say, I can't spare you from the executioner's blade. If the plans don't get to me within a week, the king will have to investigate the project."

"I understand" Elyssia stated defiantly.

"Very well. From here on out, let it be agreed that you are the master builder of the palisade walls in Percee, and you have decided to add… 'Anti-infection" measures to the plans free from my knowledge, should a siege ever prevent waste disposal" he said. "I'll have the guards escort you to a tavern. Take this coin purse to pay for the room."

As the archduke handed her the room fare and opened the door, Elyssia couldn't help but grin slyly. She'd done it. She got her lucky foot in the door, and it was time to pry. "Very well, your majesty. Thank you for your hospitality. I hope to see you again soon to talk on what additional palisade defenses you'd like" she flowed out with a wink.

"Don't mention it. And if you could ask the guards to have a gin ready for me on the way out, I'd be very appreciative."

"Of course" she said, walking out the door before rushing immediately to the tavern and getting herself a room.

The young bunny spent all night making plans, not wasting a moment on sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

" _And even when the sky is black with arrows,_

 _Or battle wounds exterminate our might,_

 _Surrender not, my eight courageous brothers,_

 _Be fortified through this oppressed night."_

 _-The Great Warrior-Poet, Horace, 'Letter to the Men who Stand Guard', Stanza 3_

Horace, by his own admission, was somewhat of a bleeding heart when it came to his outlook on the world.

He never truly showed emotion, not to anyone, and those who had met him in person never thought he dripped of weakness. Quite the contrary, he showed nothing to nobody, and it kept people on their toes around him. But wherever he went, the old badger couldn't help but notice that he was missing eight brothers in arms, and his king, his dear friend who had been clearly taken by… something. Madness, illness, hell, maybe even rot he supposed occasionally. Trying to talk to him about it only furthered the divide between himself and his old friend, and when he had been banished from Provins Royale and lost his knighthood, it only served to rob his hope of ever mending the relationship. After defending him in a small stone keep with only eight others, nearly dying for him, it hurt him in a way that was worse than any physical pain.

It made him deeply and truly... alone.

At the very least he had company for the day, he supposed as he scrambled for a reason to erase these thoughts from his head. It was, as usual, some baroness who didn't want king's guards around to report anything to the king (which means, as usual, she was most likely having an affair). It didn't matter to the badger, however. Some gold was enough to keep his lips shut, no matter how much others offered for a paltry bit of gossip. He liked to suppose he still had some loyalty, even if it was only to customers.

"Uhm… Sir Horace, must I continue wearing this hood? It's making my fur out of place… not exactly the best look for my... special guest at our destination" the skittish baroness stammered out.

Definitely an affair.

"You may do as you wish, my lady. But I'd advise against it. You could be spotted, which I understand is against your wishes. Also, you need not call me sir, madam. I'm just Horace now."

"O-oh… okay…" The rather prissy and done up lynx baroness moved her hood only for a moment, fixing the fur on her head, before quickly putting her hood up and hiding her face from a cold gust of wind. "Must you carry that axe through the snow like this? I'd imagine it gets heavy on your shoulders, especially on that armor"

"The armor isn't too much for my shoulders, Ma'am. The weight of it is resting on most of my body, not just my shoulders, so it actually feels fairly light. As for the axe, I've had it ever since I was sixteen. I've actually grown fairly comfortable with it's weight" he explained, still pressing forward and not looking her in the eye.

"Okay… I just don't want to be cruel to you is all."

"Rest assured, madam, you're not cruel to me at all. Even if you were, your protection is my primary concern, I promise you" he said genuinely, but still keeping a professional air and a straight face.

It wasn't that he disliked his client, not by any stretch. She was actually much friendlier than his other clients, and he actually felt that she was a fairly kind soul. He just preferred to remain mysterious. It kept the clients at a distance, which didn't give them any leverage to use for free favors, and it kept him knowing as little about his clients as possible, just in case interrogations were to happen.

"Well… you can at least talk to me, knight" she suggested. "It'd make the hike go faster, at least."

Chatty, the old badger noticed. "Why, I suppose you _are_ paying me. What would you like to talk about?" he asked, trying to be a bit warmer.

The baroness couldn't help but sigh, clearly exasperated and deeply nervous about something. "Something, anything to get my mind off of this journey, or my father, or my future, or anything!" she exclaimed, flying off the handle a bit before reserving herself to calmness with a deep breath. "I… I'm sorry, Horace, we can just keep walking."

"... Very well, madam" Horace simply replied, keeping his nose out of her business despite how his heart hurt him to not comfort the clearly nervous and sad young girl. "From my understanding, our destination is only three hours away. If that means anything, madam."

No response came from the young lynx, besides a more closed stance and an even more somber expression.

There was no helping it, Horace supposed. He couldn't afford to dig into the personal lives of all his customers. There'd simply be too much of a compromise in security, and clearly, though she begged for comfort, she needed protection the most.

After walking for several minutes in silence, it seemed like Horace would need to act on his promises to keep her safe. In the distance, he heard something. A single set of footsteps, and some snapping branches and crunching in the snow. Very fast, running for sure. Nothing to call for certain, but enough to make him concerned. "Madam, go into the bushes by the roadside. Wait there until I give an all clear. Understood?"

"W-wha? Okay, Okay!" she said, panicking and quickly ducking into the shrubbery by the roadside as Horace grabbed his axe off of his back and widened his stance, presenting the axe in front of him as he readied himself for a fight silently.

Heavy breathing started to make itself clearer now as the noise grew louder and nearer. Horace raised his axe ready, shifting his feet to prepare himself for a zornhau strike. One cut could end this whole ordeal and send whatever highwayman to a rightly end, provided he played his cards right.

Suddenly, out of the woods to his right, something, or rather, someone fell flat on his face directly into the snow. Horace quickly shifted his stance and brought his axe in a lower guard, not wanting to dig his axe into the ground and expose his back.

One quick squeal of fear from the cheetah on the ground revealed that this certainly wouldn't be an issue.

"Please! Please, Sir Knight, don't kill me! I'm simply a parcel boy looking to deliver you a message! Mercy, please!"

"Parcel boy, hm? Why are you going through the woods?"

"Be-because I knew of a sh-shortcut, sir, and I have a message most urgent for you! From his majesty, King of Armello!"

Horace, taken aback, relaxed his face and grip for a moment, reflecting on the possibility of the King having finally gotten back to him. He decided it wasn't possible, it had to be a ruse of some highwayman who knew who he was for some reason. "The King? I don't believe it for one second!"

"N-no, sir! It's true! H-here! I have it here!" he said, quickly getting out the letter, breaking the royal wax seal on it, and showing it to Horace while still groveling on his knees.

It was unmistakably the king's handwriting. That was the first thing Horace noticed as he slowly placed his axe on his back again before snatching the letter from the young courier's hand. "Where did you get this from, boy?"

"The king himself, sir! He said to find one Horace, the 9th Knight."

"You must have the wrong man" he said, trying to hand the letter back and be rid of this suspicious character.

"I assure you, sir, I have the right man. The King told me to look for a badger about your height, wielding an axe and wearing a white tabard with a red stripe over black gambeson."

Horace couldn't help but be puzzled as he looked over himself. The description was spot on, of course. "How did he know I'd be wearing-"

"He told me to tell you one more thing, sir. 'Be fortified through this oppressed night'."

The Letter to the Men who Stand Guard. Horace knew those words, and he knew that the king knew those words, too. Words he shared with the Nine Knights and the King himself when he was but a humble prince many years ago. Words that strengthened ten noble men defending a castle from a sea of traitors. Words that set the young prince on a path to the throne, back when he was a noble and generous young man…

"... I can't believe it… What are the circumstances of him sending this letter?"

"I was told not to read it, sir. Apparently 'tis for your eyes only" the young cheetah said, getting up.

Immediately, Horace started to read through the paper thoroughly, excited at finally hearing from his old friend after a long 15 years.

' _To my brother in arms Horace,_

 _I understand wee have ben distant lately but i would like to seee you soon. I seee the light coming, i feel the rot taking me and it is time for mee to go soon, soon, very soon, yess. Let me dye in pees, i am in a den of snakes and nobody will leeve me alone Return to me and become a night again, bee with me in my final days pleese. I pardon yoo for any crimes yoo have comited Come to province royale immeeediately_

 _Until wee meet again,_

 _His royal hyness, King Augustus II of Armello'_

Horace froze. Something clearly was off about this letter. "I'm sorry, who wrote this, some child? Is this some kind of sick joke?" He said, clearly taken aback.

"No joke, sir."

"Then what is with this? Why all the spelling errors? Why all the jumbled mess of nonsensical thoughts? He went to Stratonfell University, for wyld's sake." Horace pushed out, starting to grow more worried.

"All of his writings have been that way as of late. The King hasn't been himself. Look, sir-" the Cheetah piped up before checking behind his shoulder, as if to make sure he wasn't being watched. "I'm not supposed to say this out loud. But… as of late, the king has been infected with the rot… He's been far from himself. It's painful to watch him every day as he grows more mad and cruel, but it's worse to see his royal court trying to tear bits of his throne away from him… He doesn't have an heir, as I'm sure you know what happened to his only wife, and he doesn't have a favorite lined up. But, it is my understanding that he'd rather be surrounded by friends than enemies in his final days."

The old badger looked at the boy somberly, than back to the letter. Perusing it over once more, he couldn't help but feel something stirring inside his chest.

He was right all along, and that was the worst part. His best friend was going to die long before his time, and his memory would forever be tainted by his actions while infected with the rot. The temperature behind his eyes rose, his lips quivered a bit, and a shot of dull pain shot from his chest to his fingertips and tail as his ears flattened against his head.

He was losing a friend in a slow, painful, and degrading fashion. It was no death fit for the great Augustus II, who brought peace to Armello. "...So my old friend has genuinely wrote this? He's on his deathbed, stricken low by rot? His kindred spirit's growing weak and listless, and now he's to accept his barren lot?"

"From what I know, these things are so" said the low laden courier to the badger. "I'm afraid I must be off now. The king has sent other couriers to the remaining three knights. However, no word has been heard back. I fear they remain not…"

One flash of heat in the badger's head on this news made him crack his facade, forcing him to quickly turn away from the cheetah and cover his face. Wiping the tears from his eyes in secret, he covered his mouth and regained his breath and professionalism as best as he possibly could with the bad news he had heard. Taking a deep breath and clenching his paws, he tried to speak. "Tell… Tell his majesty I'll be there as soon as I can…"

"Very well, sir" the courier said, turning to make his way home. "One last thing, master Horace. The king wishes his rot to remain a secret. You musn't tell a soul."

With a quick sniffle, Horace hastily responded. "Yes! Yes, of course. I understand… please, take your leave."

"Yes sir. I pray you have a safe journey. And may Wyld save the king." With an about face, the courier was off, jogging at a good pace through the snow to his next destination, wherever that lay. But Horace… he took another moment to gain his composure as the lynx hiding in the bushes slowly came out.

"... Horace?"

"... Yes, my lady?"

"... Are you alright? I understand the news must feel very grim… I'm sorry to hear what happened."

"T'is… t'is not an issue, Madam. We still have a journey to finish before I attend to my other business. Come along, now" he said with a monotone voice, deliberately devoid of emotion.

The rest of the journey was uneventful. The news Horace had heard still burned in the back of his mind and put pressure behind his eyes.

Part of him felt like openly weeping over the loss of Augustus. But he knew this wasn't the way of a knight. He'd release his emotion as he always had. Through poetry. But that was for another night, in another bar, nursing another cup of ale.

The two had finally arrived at Cresten Village after three hours, just as Horace had promised. Noon fell upon the small town by the time they had entered the small village. From what Horace had been told, it was here that the baroness was to meet her contact.

"Well, madam, we've arrived. Would you like escort to your contact?" he asked in a reserved and polite tone, still not fully over the earlier events of the day.

"N-no, knight, I'll be fine. Prince Norman should be close by."

Prince Norman? Prince of Tjadenburg? What business had she with the prince of a wealthy trade city-state?

Horace shrugged it off, and simply pretended he knew not who this prince was.

"Very well, my lady. Seeing as my services are no longer required, and you paid me up-front, I shall take my leave" he said, getting on a knee and bowing. "It was a pleasure protecting you, Madam."

The lynx smiled and grabbed at her coat a bit before pulling him up and wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you so much… For getting me away from that horrid marriage my father had arranged… I'll never forget you, Knight…"

Horace couldn't help but let his lips curl up into a smile as he heard that, knowing he'd made the life of a young girl a little better. "It was a pleasure, as I said… Now go on. Pursue happiness, young lady."

Slowly, the lynx unwrapped her arms from around him and handed him another coin. "Take this. As a token of my gratitude. May life fare you well, Horace. You'll always be a true knight to me."

With a nod, the young lynx turned and sprinted happily around the corner, probably to a meeting place with her prince charming. Horace smiled for a moment, craning his neck and looking around for the nearest bar and tavern.

He enjoyed the comfort of knowing that his work (which was technically backed by the bandit clan) didn't always go into the morally grey areas. At times, when his job allowed him to do things that were clearly good for others, he would jump at the opportunity. For today, he was just glad that, though the news of the morning had been terrible, he was able to make the whole life of just one other person infinitely better. At least, that's what he told himself on his way to the bar just down the road, where he decided he'd have a smidge of ale to clear his mind on the news he had received.

Opening the door to the darkened and quiet alehouse in the small village, Horace slowly took note of how few people were in the place. It was noon, and the town didn't seem to be large enough to have drunkards to fill the place to the walls before nightfall, but it still felt odd to know that the only other animals here were the rat sipping brandy at a corner table and the badger barmaiden working the liquor stand.

"'Ello, there, love" the young badger behind the counter cried out in her youthful voice, sultry enough to make it obvious she was begging for extra tips.

"Evening, Madam" he replied politely, taking his seat at one of the wooden stools with a gold piece in hand.

"Lookin' for a pint, is ya? I've got'a lovely collection for ya back here" she said, turning around as she bent over for an ale, flaunting her tail in a rather flashy fashion. "It's not often I see another handsome badga' like you 'round here. What brings you here, love?"

"Business. I'm not here to admire the view" he said, a bit annoyed with her rather sad attempt at flirting, especially considering the letter he had received.

"Hm, royal business, by the looks of that letta'. I always liked a man of status" she rolled off her tongue, hoping to do god knew what.

Horace, trying to have a serious drink and write a proper poem to blow off steam, decided to get her off of his back right away. "Madam, my best friend since I was 15 is dying in a slow, degrading, and painful way, and so I have come to this establishment to have a pint and write a proper sendoff for him. May I very kindly have an ale and some privacy?"

The female, taken aback by the sudden, turned around and grabbed the ale he asked for with a rather regretful look. "Uh… 'alf a piece, sir."

"Thank you" Horace said, sliding the gold to her and pulling out a parchment and feather pen from his bag. "I apologize for the irritation."

"... no mind, sir" she said, choosing to recover from the awkward situation by hastily returning to her work as Horace set about his art.

So many questions ran through his mind as he stared at the blank page and had a sip of his ale. Prose or Poetry? Poetry, the feelings of his weren't raw or base. They could only be truly described with great care. A petrarchan sonnet would force him to choose his words carefully, and get his feelings across much better. But what was he feeling, exactly? Sadness was a good start, for certain. For what he knew, he was the last of his battle brothers in the order of the rose to be alive. And his one friend, the one he had hoped he could reconnect with, was soon to be claimed with a horrid disease. Was it really just sadness? No… it was something far more profound and persistent. If he were to be honest with himself, he had been feeling this way for many, many years. Ever since his removal from the order… ever since the first of his brothers fell. It was a dread to wake up in the morning. One that made him question his reason for being alive.

Tortured did some good to describe it. Forced by his once greatest friend to live a meaningless life, being robbed of friends and purpose. He wasn't angry with King Augustus though… he felt sorry for him…

Lost… that was what described him. Adrift, like a leaf in the wind, sat he in a world which chipped at him day by day. Robbed first of his nobility, then of his purpose… then of his family… Lost and empty and doubtful that there was a reason for his existence.

 _How much am I to lose afore my end_

 _Must I be robbed of my humanity?_

 _Hath god no measure for humility?_

 _Or is it time that will these wounds amend?_

 _To mine own self, I must my statement send._

 _Is this my charge, to lose nobility?_

 _Or is this for a purpose beyond me?_

 _That I must lose my great and noble friend..._

Horace laid the pen down a moment, and stopped to examine his work after a sip. Taking another pause for thought, he tried to remember the rest of how the petrarchan sonnet went. What was the rhyme scheme, he thought to himself, digging to remember. ' _Cdce? No, no, that wasn't it. Cdecde? That seems to ring a-'_

The badger's thoughts were soon interrupted by a charge of king's guards kicking open the door and fumbling with their halberds to get into the small room, before finally giving up and switching to arming swords as they finally managed to storm the place.

Horace simply watched from his barstool with an apathetic air. Amateurs, he thought, trying to go into a small tudor house with 12 foot long halberds. Clearly, that was something they needed to work on.

But it was no matter. They were most likely here for the rat anyway. He had received a royal pardon, after all.

"You there! You are under arrest for possession of secret royal documents and the provisions of private security to customers not authorized by the royal guards!"

Horace turned to look behind him, but noticed that the rat was gone. Turning back to look at the guards, he noticed the rat was actually standing outside the doorway, grinning and receiving a small purse of gold from the constable for his so called find.

No matter, Horace supposed. Must have been for the barmaiden.

"You, madam! Get behind us! This badger is a dangerous criminal who is not to be trusted!" One of the guards cried out, getting in a low fighting stance.

Never mind, Horace thought to himself as he slowly set his quill down, laying his axe against the barstool and turning with his hands up to face the guards as the bar lady ran into the protection of the retrievers bearing arms against the badger. Breathing in and out calmly, he took off his helmet and laid it at his side. "Gentlemen. I shall not bear arms against my own. I submit to arrest, but I implore you to look at this letter from the King himself. He has granted me a royal pardon to visit him in his final days."

"Final days? How dare you question the king's health and break the law! Out here with you, knave!" one of the guards said, rushing behind Horace and kicking him onto the ground, pressing his head into the floor. "Ready the rope!"

"Yes, sir" another one of the retrievers said, readying a length and tying the badger's hands together. "You should know it's a crime to speak of King Augustus's health in such a demeaning manner. T'is also a crime for anyone not of noble birth to posses any document containing the official seal of his Majesty, King Augustus II, ordained by the Wyld!"

"I am of noble birth! I am a knight from the service of Lord Jacque-L'ecu, Lord of Nevelsbad, later recruited by King Augustus himself as the Ninth Knight of the Order of the Rose!"

"Quiet with you, Mercenary-"

"Halt!" one of the more senior guards barked out, making the two juniors freeze and cease their restraining. "You, badger. Are you the great Horace of Nevelsbad, defender of the king during the Blackpaw Plot?"

Horace, a bit overwhelmed by the multiple changes of tide in the past minute paused for a moment, lifting his cheek off the floor a moment to look at the guard. "That would by my title, noble guard" he said simply.

With a brief pause, for breath, the senior guard, clad with dark steel armor and golden gilding, removed his helmet and placed it under his arm, unsheathing a dagger with his other hand. "I am terribly embarrassed. Release him, you two simpletons! You know not who you restrain!" h said, shooing the two younger guards away from the badger and cutting what little rope they had put on his wrists. "Any badger who defends our great king from hordes ten cohorts deep with but nine men and three ballistas is a badger I owe a great debt to, personally" he said as he placed his dagger back at his side, offering a hand to help Horace up.

Horace, greatly confused now, nodded his head and accepted the hand, gripping to it tightly as it pulled him back onto his feet. "T'was little more than my job, great commander. I would die for his majesty's safety."

"As would I, tenfold" the commander replied. "Gentlemen! Pay attention to everything this badger says! As far as King's Guards go, this badger is our founder and crowning achievement. _I trust you all remember his story_ " the guard said, almost menacing as he glared intensely into the eyes of each of his troops. "I apologize for the actions of my subordinates. It will not happen again, I assure you."

"Apology accepted, good knight" Horace replied with a nod of the head.

"Now… with that out of the way, allow me to take the time to explain the charges levied against you. As much as I admire you, I must read these charges to you in full and allow you to dispute them. The charges levied against you by His Majesty, King Augustus II of Armello and his crown are as follows: As of the 18th of August, in the year of the Wyld 1270, Horace of Nevelsbad has been charged by the crown and found guilty of slander against our King, Augustus II of Armello, and as such, has lost the title of Ninth Knight of the Order of the Rose and is banished from Provins Royale. As of the 24th of November, in the year of the Wyld 1282, Horace of Nevelsbad has been charged by the crown of providing private security to customers not hitherto ordained worthy of private protection by the King's Guard directly, in direct defiance of the law created on the 23rd of November, 1282. As of the 30th of November, 1282 this day, Horace of Nevelsbad has been charged with being in possession of documents bearing the royal seal of His Majesty, King Augustus the II of Armello without being a part of his royal court, in direct defiance of the law created on the 29th of November 1282. What say you to these charges, Horace of Nevelsbad?"

Horace couldn't help but stand shocked at how often the King seemed to be creating arbitrary and downright paranoid laws and regulations. A small pain in his chest grew as he realized that his must had been the rot taking him over. Nevertheless… "I plead guilty to all of these charges, Sir Knight. However, I do believe there are extenuating circumstances"

"As I had thought as well, noble knight. State your circumstances" the Guard replied, almost begging them to be good enough. "I wish nothing more than to see you set free, great and noble Knight."

"My Lord, I was a virile man of twenty when did the health of King Augustus wane, and when to question voice'd my trepidations, I was removed and for my life ashamed. So well have I obeyed my unjust sentence that since that day the great Provins Royale has never seen a shadow of my presence nor had I planned to make it so it shall. As for the laws of later which I've broken, both laws were made in but a half a month. These laws to me were not so much as spoken until you came to me and made it such. If this be not enough to sway my jury, this evidence shall make mine own case hardened. If you peruse this letter very wisely, you'll find it in Augustus' Royal Pardon."

Horace presented the letter to the guard, containing the official seal of the king. As the guard looked over it carefully, he seemed to recognize in it the king's handwriting, as Horace had as well. "It seems to me that he is free, and back to noble status!" He exclaimed with a cheerful attitude, grasping Horace's paw in his own and shaking it proudly. "The old guard has been awaiting this day for so long, noble knight."

The old badger smiled warmly, shaking back as the rest of the guards sheathed their arming swords and relaxed their stances. "As have I, shield brother. But alas, the king has called me back to Provins Royale. I fear it's grim… I still consider him my brother, you understand."

"I understand you had a special connection to the king" the guard said, signaling to his juniors to leave the building as he put a hand on Horace's shoulder, walking him out. "I have read many accounts on your early journeys together, uniting all the clans to peace under one banner. I can only imagine being a young man of sixteen and meeting such a refined prince."

"He was a magnificent sight indeed when first I saw him. His swordsmanship was as close to perfection as a living being could get. So good was he with a longsword that, when fighting the Mujadani invaders to our south to secure peace with my first lord, I witnessed firsthand as he fended off ten men wielding nothing but an arming sword and his buckler" Horace said, recalling the older days with nostalgia. "It was an honor, then, when he called me to his side after seeing my skill with an axe."

"Come, then, Horace. I'm sure his majesty has plenty of reminiscing he'd like to do with you in person" the old retriever replied. "I shall send to your aid two of my finest guards to escort you. I trust you know how to get to the Provins from here?"

"I suppose I can read a map well enough. I have one in my pack" he replied, sliding a scroll out of the sack he carried on his back and unfurling it. "If we're in the town of Pradenburg, Pradenburg is just inside Wolf Clan territory, which is to the North of Provins, meaning we need to head south, first stopping at the town of Manshire."

"Very well. Tucker, Klossner! Proceed to the storehouses and pack provisions enough for a one week journey to Manshire. You'll be his escort."

The two younger knights raised their visors and snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!" they replied in unison before breaking rank to head for the storehouse as they were told.

The commander then turned back to Horace. "As for you, I'd like to formally invite you to the town's keep for a private dinner. It would be an honor to host you, noble Horace."

Horace was normally a humble badger in his own mind. But he had to admit… a feast was something he could use greatly given the day's events….


	4. Chapter 4

" _So ever through the flame and fire of battle_

 _We'll earn our ever noble title, Knight,_

 _Forever proud am I to know you, brothers_

 _Be fortified through this oppresse'd night."_

 _-The Great Warrior-Poet Horace, 'Letter to the Men who Stand Guard', final stanza_

It had been a long week and a half for the young wolf, who had wanted nothing more than her mother to be taken care of. Her feet had grown tired, her fur and coat were all made slightly damp by the cold snow that tended to fall throughout the wolf clan in this time of year, and she was growing increasingly frustrated with how much of a hassle it had become just to get her proper ration.

For the entire journey, she hadn't encountered any snow deep enough to stop any shipment from getting to Les Montagnes. In fact, she had seen two whole convoys of weapons and armor traverse the road in the opposite direction of her just fine. Whatever the situation was, she decided, she was going to let the Archduke have it very soon. Now that she was only ten minutes away from the settlement, she had readied herself, gone over what she was going to say to Jean-Christophe over and over again to try and come up with the most biting words possible. This, she thought, would right whatever was going on.

Stepping through the final barrier of treeline with her bow and travel pack slung onto her back, she instinctively brought her lips to a scowl as her ears pinned themselves to her head. Taking her first spiteful steps through the open castle gate on the mountaintop, however, she slowly dropped her scowl as a wave of regret hit her, realizing the exact situation she had walked into.

There, throughout the entire square, was a long line for food and provisions leading into the castle's keep. The line was manned by all manner of orphans, husbands, wives, and daughters.

Her heart wept for the children. Starving and cold, many of them had matted fur and thin frames. Some gripped onto their mothers tightly for comfort, while one particular raccoon kit ran up to her and lightly tugged on her tail, grabbing her attention as she spun around.

"Madam… can you spare any food? I haven't eaten for two days…"

River put her paw on her heart and sighed in sadness. "Of course, young child! Here…" she offered, reaching into her bag and pulling out some turkey slices for the boy. "It's not much, but it's all I've packed for the journey here."

The child immediately grabbed it and gobbled it up, chewing it with a smile on his face and licking his lips to make sure he missed none of it before rushing to her leg and wrapping his arms around it. "Thank you, thank you ma'am!"

She couldn't help but smile and put a paw on the back of his head. "Of course. May wyld bless you, little one"

"You too!" the raccoon said back excitedly, before releasing his grip and rushing back to what she assumed was his grandfather, walking on crutches, seemingly struck by polio.

The wolfess held herself upright, but she had to admit, the whole town was a very sorry sight. It upset her to her deepest core that in her arrogance, she had assumed her missing rations were a slight against her. But now she had figured it out, or at least she thought she did.

The entire wolf clan was going through a food crisis.

These ration lines were long, and considering they lead directly into the keep, River assumed that getting inside to see Jean-Christophe would be a whole challenge unto itself. She couldn't simply skip the line, such would be rude beyond the point of offense. Sighing in defeat, she consigned herself to the back of the line, a long way from the keep itself, where one of the many King's Guards in the area was manning a desk full of papers. As she stepped up to the line, the guard halted her.

"Good Afternoon, Madam. State your name."

"River Allemond" she stated as she looked painfully at the line ahead of her.

The guard perused his papers a moment, trying desperately to find her name on the list before looking up to her. "Do you reside in this city?"

"No, sir, I live in Montagne" she replied with a raised brow.

"I'm afraid we cannot distribute food to you, then, Madam" the Knight said, standing up. "I must ask you to leave the line."

"I'm here to seek counsel with the Archduke Jean-Christophe, over a ration I had been promised for my work as a ranger" she explained calmly.

"He's too busy at the moment to address you, madam. From what I understand he's handing out rations in the keep-"

"-I _was_ handing out rations, loyal guard!" a wolf dressed handsomely from ears to paws stated. "I've left my post temporarily to receive another shipment of aid. This one's coming in from the bear clan" he said before taking River's paw in his and leading her out of the line. "What seems to be the problem, Madam?"

"Well, sir, I was promised the following rations for my work as a ranger" she said, unfolding and handing him the letter of her contract. "I haven't received these rations in three weeks. It doesn't affect me, but my dear mother is sick and she cannot fend for herself" she explained as humbly as she could, hoping to earn the duke's favor.

"... River Allemond?"

"Yes."

The young wolf took a brief moment to puzzle over the name in his head. "The name rings a bell, madam. I've heard many reports about you in your year of service. Indeed, you've already grown to be quite the ranger" he said before turning his head quickly at the tap of the shoulder from a guard. "Yes, yes, let the bear clan convoy through the gatehouse. And tell somebody to ready a quill, so I can sign for the shipment!" As the guard clamored off, the nobleman turned back to River. "I'm terribly sorry to disrupt conversation from your issue, but now really isn't the best time. But since you came all this way, do you mind staying a night and helping with the soup kitchen?"

"Why, yes, of course, sir" she said back with a heart of concern for the citizens of the village. "It wouldn't be right to just leave these people starving."

"Excellent" he said as a convoy started to walk in bearing more meat and bread for the various people in the village. "That's very good, take it around the back of the keep, there! Tell Brun of the Bear Clan I send my many thanks!" he yelled to the passers-by. "Come, follow me this way, I'll explain the issue as we make our way back to the keep"

As the Archduke quickly strutted off past the lines to get back to the keep, River followed close behind. She was profoundly struck by the sight of poverty around her, but something about the whole situation didn't seem quite right to her.

The winter usually brought some shortage of food, but the Royal Aid was always there for the carnivorous and herbivorous citizens of the Wolf Clan. Never had that aid faltered, even in times of road closures from snow. And considering there were no closures so far, there was no reason for food to be so short. Why did the aid come from the bear clan, she thought? What was really going on here that she didn't know about?

The archduke, as if sensing her apprehension, turned to her as he walked and began to explain. "Now, River, allow me to tell you the issue as I see it plainly. I'm assuming as a ranger, you understand that this Winter has been fairly light, correct?"

"Of course, so-"

"Even in light winters, the prey birds always go south for the warm weather and the soil becomes too cold and hard to farm, especially here in the mountains, so every winter, we draw food stores from the royal palace."

"You don't need to explain this to me, I already know-"

"The king has made a decree. He has declared, in secret, that the Wolf Clan shall not have access to the food stores this winter" he said harshly, with a fire in his tongue aimed at the king himself. "The damned bane- Do you understand how much of an unexpected decree that was? No warning whatsoever so that we could prepare, and even then, why have we been locked out of supplies? It's madness, I tell you, the King has probably gone mad. I swear, every day I am called to court, his laws get more and more erratic."

River was immediately confused. "King Augustus has done this? Wha- why? What possible reason-"

"Nobody knows, ranger" he said, opening the door to the keep and leading river through the crowd of starving masses to the very back where large pots of various soups were being cooked. "His reasons are known but to the wyld. However, I have my suspicions. Suspicions I will relay to you in private" he said, getting behind a table and grabbing ladles for himself and River. "For the moment" he started with a sigh, "...these good yeomen need food."

River, still stunned from the sudden influx of information, took a moment to process exactly what she heard before taking her ladle. "Of course, your majesty. I'm assuming the duck soup is for the carnivores, and the vegetable broth goes to the prey?"

"Right" he said with a sigh, turning to one of the starving faces hunched over the table with an empty bowl. "For you, good sir, a warm bowl of vegetable broth" he said, bestowing the wirey goat's portion into his bowl.

"Bless you, Majesty"

"'Tis but a duty of mine, to my people. May Wyld bless you."

An elderly lioness took her step up to the table River was manning, moving with the feeble legs which only the combination of age and starvation could create. River quickly bowed. "Good day to you, madam" she said, taking her bowl and ladling the duck soup into her bowl, making sure to get plenty of meat inside. "May wyld bless you"

"You as well, young lady" the lioness said, not looking up at her, choosing instead to focus on her amulet. "The future will hold many paths for you"

River, stunned by the sudden prophecy, blinked, only to find the old lioness vanished, probably disappearing into the crowd she had assumed. It was of little concern, thought she. Another bit of wisdom the elderly try to impart.

As the Archduke Jean-Christophe ladled, he started to look over River. It wasn't eyes of lust that admired the form, not by any measure. The archduke admired his fellow wolf's athletic prowess.

What he had been told was true.

"You know, River, I'm terribly sorry about this whole ration mix-up, I really am" he pleaded, ladling more vegetable broth into an empty bowl. "Word tends to spread very slowly, but it was not correct of me."

"I suppose it wasn't in your control, your Majesty" she said, handing a bowl to a small cub. "Sometimes, though, I wonder why it is the King can get away with this. I understand his ordained rule, but-"

"You question his decisions?" the noble wolf asked, earning a brief moment of trepid silence out of River. "Worry not. Many of the court question his decisions these days. Besides, if it weren't for this famine business, I would have already knighted you for your outstanding work as a ranger. However, this famine-"

"Wait, excuse me" she said, surprised by the sudden mention of knighthood. "D-Did you say…. Knighted?"

"Why, of course. I thought you'd known that in advance. Had you not?" The wolf asked with a puzzled air.

"I had not, my lord…" she explained, confusedly setting aside her ladle and facing the lord in a more direct stance.

"... I thought I had sent a rider to Les Montege to give you the message."

"Les Montege, My lord?"

"Why yes, that's where you live… is it not" The noble wolf asked, his ears flattening against his head as an eyebrow raised.

River, cautious of telling a noble he was wrong, took a step back before speaking. "I live in Les Montagnes, my lord" she corrected.

Jean-Christophe froze a moment, his tail and left ear twitching as he recognized his very simple mistake in coordination. He had remembered the name of the damned village wrong, and the rider was sent in the complete opposite direction. "I am terribly embarrassed. Guards!" he shouted, a slightly aggravated tone taking over his voice.

"Sir, I meant not to offe-"

"It's quite alright, Madame River, the only slight I have is against myself for my foolishness. We are to settle this knighthood right now, in front of the subjects and the Wyld itself." By this point, the guards had arrived, awaiting their orders with their halberds at the ready. "You, guards, take over the soup kitchen for the moment. I must knight River here as soon as possible for my incompetence! I am so terribly sorry, Madame River"

"It's nothing, sir, I assure you, I don't even think I deserve a knighthood" The wolfess said in flattery.

"But you do, River" he responded with a grateful air. "Follow me to the throne room."

As the Duke lead River to the throne room of the keep, she couldn't help but feel as though something was off. For certain, she had arrested or killed a grand total of 126 highwaymen and thieves in her one year of service (a record amount for one year), but such a thing wasn't the typical deed that would render one a knight. After all, she thought, knights were a class of nobility and to become one required training from a young age in the ways of the sword and shield. She was skilled only with the bow and the dagger.

It all felt a bit rushed, in any case.

As she was rushed into the modest room where Jean-Christophe gave his decrees, a royal guard welcomed the Archduke by snapping to attention, raising his visor with his right hand as he did.

Jean-Christophe quickly took the moment to turn to the guard. "My good guard, if I may have a moment to my own, I must have you leave. Also, send for a priest! I must have witness for an official order!"

"Aye, sir!" The guard said, not questioning as he rushed out of the room to grab the priest who was hard at work in the keep's temple with the sickly.

"But wait! Is it not customary to have a procession of guards at the knighting ceremony?" River asked, remembering a rare Knighting ceremony she witnessed as a girl.

"T'is, but form must be broken for the moment. We cannot spare a single guard to leave the work of recovering from this famine" the Archduke replied, spitting the word 'guard' from his mouth as if it were a profanity.

"But he was already busy protecting-"

"Question. It. Not." the Archduke replied firmly, giving her a nudge with his shoulder.

If the situation had not seemed off before, it certainly seemed off now, as soon enough the good bishop of the keep came through the door bearing a sealed bottle of spikenard.

"My good bishop, this is the good lady River of Les Montagnes, the ranger who was to be knighted during the Winter solstice" Jean-Christophe said, introducing the wolfess to the porcupine who had walked through the door with the anointing implements.

"Oh, it is, uh, nice to meet you, lady River! Uh, enchante!" The porcupine replied, fumbling about with the spikenard and the holy book to find a free hand to offer out to the lady. "It, uh, t'is a great honor to be knighted into this glorious… uh… a-and righteous clan!" He stammered, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself of that.

Jean-Christophe looked suspiciously towards the bishop before River spoke in turn, feeling the tension in the air. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, good bishop. And it is indeed an honor to be Knighted into the great Wolf Clan."

"Bishop Martin, I would like you to preside over the Knighting ceremony for her, as her witness to the commons and to the wyld" Jean-Christophe stated firmly.

"Oh… It's happening now?"

"Why, of course. What else would I ask the spikenard of you for?"

"Well, I thought perchance someone had died, sir-"

"W-what? No, nothing of the sort."

"Ah, good, good! Well… we should assemble the guards to set to-"

"No guards! I insist."

"But it is-"

The Archduke furrowed his brow and growled in annoyance. "I explained this to River, I tire of explaining things! Knighting, now!"

Wincing, the Archduke complied, taking a position to the left hand side of the Archduke as he looked to River and then to the ground, an indication for her to kneel, a hint she took quickly as she awkwardly set herself low.

Taking a deep breath, Jean-Christophe raised his head and spoke. "River Allemond, of the village Les Montagnes. It has been the topic of great discussion amongst the nobles of the Wolf Clan that you, during your duties as a faithful ranger, have far exceeded the duties of your post and thus proven yourself worthy of a title far greater than the lowly status you currently hold. For this, I, having been bestowed power from King Augustus II of Armello, have deemed it fit to bestow this knightly power unto you, mine noble Knight of the great Wolf Clan. Do you pledge to serve faithfully the nobility ordained by the Wyld on your quests? Swear you to be kind to the allies of our great clan and merciless to our foes? Vow you to be virtuous in all pursuits hereafter, and conduct yourself in a manner befitting of such a title as Knight of the Wolf Clan? And do you swear to obey the orders of those nobles ordained above you, as they be right and moral?"

River paused for thought, alarmed at the expedience with which what was usually a critical turning point in one's life was taking place. There was no warning, no crowd, no witness apart from the good bishop. It all begged the question for the wolfess, why was she doing this?

Well… Knights were nobility, and nobility received greater privileges. Greater privileges could spell greater rations and doctors for her sick mother, whom she had trekked all this way to help.

The logic felt flat to her, and still caused a sense of unease in her bosom. But it would do for then, she supposed.

"I swear" she said, nervously eyeing up the Archduke as she did, trying to gauge what exactly his intent in all this was.

A grin was all she saw, paired with eyes filled with the machinations of some greater scheme that she was, as of yet, unaware of.

"Then, by the power vested in me by Augustus II, and by the true and good witness of the Wyld's life giving power represented by the presence of the good Bishop Martin, I declare you a Knight of the Wolf Clan. May I have the spikenard, bishop?"

Nervously and with hesitation, the bishop broke the neck of the bottle, releasing the seal and handing it to the Archduke to be used. Jean-Christophe, moving to hold his arming sword parallel to the ground, poured the anointing oil out over the blade. The fragrance, a sweet lavender, filled the air as if it were the mask to a much fouler plot. The blade, having been made holy by the spikenard, was then brought down first to her right shoulder, then her left, until finally the Archduke settled the blade on her head, letting it rest for but a brief moment as he made his final declaration. "Arise, Madame River" he ordered, sheathing the sword once more as the wolfess complied.

"You are now a Knight of the Wolf Clan."

The declaration did little to arouse pride in the young wolfess, nor did the prospect of being a Knight tempt her beyond the reaches of using it to help her sick and dying mother. Something inside of her caused her to feel as though the rushed and silenced ceremony was simply being used as a means to use her for more nefarious ends.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful after that. The two had quickly taken back up their work of providing soup to the starving people of the town, and little else was said or mentioned of the knighting ceremony.

That was until the soup kitchen had closed for the night, and the many poor's houses opened their doors to the needy of the village. Jean-Christophe had allowed the King's Guards to do the bulk of the cleaning, instead allowing his servants to retire for the evening. After the guards had (not without grumbling) set about their work of cleaning the various pots, pans, ladles, and spoons, the Archduke tapped River on the shoulder, who, not to be useless, had taken to helping several guards move a rather large cauldron.

"River. As my Knight, I request your presence in my chambers immediately." The duke extended his paw. But a look of worry and slight disgust soon played over River's face.

The proposition appeared dangerously like he was asking her to lay with him. And that would not do. Following him but for a few steps until they were out of sight, she drew a rondel dagger from her leggings, shoving the archduke against the wall and brandishing the weapon. "Listen here, you serpent. I understand I am your knight, bound by honor, but if you think I shall forsake my purity to lie with you in your chambers, understand that I will spill your blood in these halls!"

The archduke, immediately taken aback, did his best to calm her down. "Relax, Knight. Such was not the proposition I was going to make…. If it makes you more comfortable, we can discuss the matter here"

"I'm not discussing anything!"

" _The matter_ is not to get you to lie with me. It's about why I knighted you today."

This caused River to relax her grip on the dagger. Slowly, setting it back down into its scabbard, she backed off. "Explain the meaning of this needing to be in secret, then."

"It's-" he started, before looking around to ensure there were no prying ears. "It's a matter involving _his highness"_ he whispered.

River couldn't help freezing for a moment. "King Augustus? What business do I have with him?"

"It is not the business you have, Madame River. Rather it is the business of the Wolf Clan. _We need a 'message' delivered_ " he said, gesturing to his private quarters which were nearby.

Sighing, she let the poor man go, and quickly followed him into the quarters, shutting the door with an intense force as they both entered. "What are you asking me to do, Master Jean-Christophe?"

With a sigh, the Archduke brushed himself off, strutting over to the window which had been darkened by the night. "There has been talk in the royal court. The King's order to stop our typical aid shipments was no surprise. Atypical, certainly. But as of late, the King has started to grow maniacal and calloused. He struts and frets each hour of the night in his chamber, tearing the tapestry to tattered shreds with his claws only to purchase new ones the following morning. He shamelessly calls in the evening for concubines, and whenever he hears so much as a whisper in his halls, he calls for a most ungodly inquisition. The King is going mad, River. And if not somebody does anything to purge the world of this most diabolical evil, I fear the Kingdom of Armello shall last not much longer than these winter months."

"And… what are you proposing I do?" River asked. "Are you suggesting I walk into the Royal Palace and drive an arrow through his heart? Such would be treasonous and…" She had to stop and sigh, looking out of the window to the road that led into the city. "I want only to help my dear mother."

"If you do this, you will be queen, River. It is why we knighted you. Such is why we gave you the title of nobility. So that when you take that damned shot, it will be a legitimate and moral action of the Wolf Clan, and not the rogue arrow of some common thug. Kill the king. End this reign of terror he has begun to plunge our kingdom into, and you shall be rewarded."

"But I seek no reward! Have another one of your archers do this, I plead!"

"No other archer has killed 13 bandits from half a mile away with a longbow! No other archer has defeated three armored marauders at once with a stray arrow and a rondel dagger! And no other archer can shoot the king and live to tell the tale..."

A solemn silence fell upon the room as the two locked eyes. River sighed a breath of anxiety, releasing into the world but a taste of her worries.

"If I do this… will you take care of my mother?"

"I will see to nothing less. And when you become queen, you can provide more love and care for the sickly mothers of the world than Augustus ever did in his time."

River looked back to the outside, gazing back and forth as the line to the poor's house coiled like a venomous snake, wrapping itself around the abandoned and mistreated homes of the city. "I shall take your quest, your majesty."

"Very well… I'd suggest starting your journey by heading to Manshire. T'is a charming little village, and the road to it tends to be free from deep snow. One more thing, before you set off tomorrow morning" he said, turning away from the window to pour a bottle of wine.

River sighed, turning to see him before being confused at the sight of him raising a glass. "What is it, Master Jean-Christophe?"

"Long live Queen River."


	5. Chapter 5

" _And roundabout the players went,_

 _With heads entrench'd in holes._

 _Contented with their merry part,_

 _But yet to see the whole"_

 _\- 'Book of Armello' Chapter 6 Verse 12, declared religious canon by Scholars of the Wyld in 1285_

Sana rushed quickly through the campsite as a great bonfire roared, keeping the nearby bears warm in the hastily made war camp. Not bothering to take her time, she searched frantically in any tent she could find, desperate to find the leader of the bear clan who was leading the grand operation needed to resupply the wolf clan for the winter.

The bears had a reputation for generosity, thankfully. At least generally speaking, while the bears were skilled in the arts of war, they did their best to avoid it. The Wolf Clan had graciously accepted the aid from the Bear Clan's lands of plenty where the snow rarely fell, and the Bear Clan received a hefty bonus in the form of untaxed passage through the Wolf Clan's territory. Sending the aid as quickly and efficiently as possible was then an important operation, and one that Brun, the main leader of the operation, was hard at work putting into action as Sana bursted inside, feeling free to put her staff down as if it were her own home.

"Sana, I expected not your visit" Brun quickly said, not bothering to look up from the map where he was marking the hiding spots of bandits.

"I expected not to have to make it, my lord. Something has gone terribly wrong, and you must know about it."

"Is this about the King? Because if it's his decree to shut off aid to the Wolf clan, we're already working on it."

Sana was taken back by the statement. It explained all the convoys at the very least, but she had been so far away from society on her journey from the forest that she missed it. "What… what did the King do?"

"I just told you, he cut off palace aid to the Wolf clan for the winter."

"Wha- why? What did the Wolf Clan do?"

"From what I heard during the meeting of the Court, the Wolf Clan representative had seen the King in his chambers while he was being attended to by doctors."

"And?"

"The King suspected a murder plot, so he had the representative hanged, drawn, and quartered. He's not been of sound mind, it seems, and the court's starting to talk."

Sana froze. Starting to put the massive rot infestation and the King's odd behavior together, she tentatively spoke. "What did the Wolf Clan representative see?"

Brun sighed, standing up from his chair and finally looking at the bear in front of him. "He could speak not before he was executed. I suspect the King wanted not for word of it to spread. However, it was enough to warrant an execution in Augustus' eyes. What is it you wanted to speak of?"

"...There was a rot manifestation. Very large, in the Forest of Meditation. It was enough to destroy the whole forest, and there's tales of a wild bane roaming the land there. I barely managed to escape with my life. I suspect now that it has something to do with the King… it'd explain the odd behavior."

"It'd explain all the bloodletting the King has been treated with too… How long ago was this?"

"One week, my lord."

"The King's temper has been declining for about a month… However, there's been rumors of purple spots on the king's skin for twelve years. I fear he's been fighting a battle with the rot for quite some time. A lion can only resist this plague for so long. Tis indeed a miracle he's lasted this long if it's the rot. In all that time, the disease probably got stronger within him… How it manifested in the forest is beyond me, however. I'm no scholar of the Wyld."

"If the disease has indeed festered for twelve years, it could no doubt manifest its properties throughout the kingdom. Animals of power are taken over by the rot, and it could spread to any land of influence… like the corruption it creates, it can manifest in any part of the king's domain. The force of the Wyld is upset when a leader is tainted. Men of power… they have more of the universe's life giving force than most. The rot sapping that takes not only from the body it infests, but also the universe, since the life giving force belongs to the universe, not to the host."

"Are you suggesting that as the King gets weaker, so too does the Wyld itself?"

"So long as his majesty is alive, yes." Sana paced about the room. The news was disturbing to say the least. She had suspected a dark ritual was the cause of the incident in the forest. But this was much worse. "Once the king succumbs to death, the Wyld shall be restored. But by that point… The rot may have done more damage to the kingdom than is repairable. Our clans might be in shambles, and Banes may well take over the land…"

Brun sat back down in his chair, putting his hand to his chin in careful thought. Shock took over his complexion as he contemplated the meaning of this. "Well… As the bear clan, it is our duty to maintain the balance of Wyld and Rot at all times… What can be done about this, Scholar Sana?"

Sana thought back to her training. "... If he is killed early, his rot will not be enough to destroy the kingdom. But such talk is unethical and treacherous… Spirit Stones can heal rot, but they are hard to come by. And if it manifests in the landscape like this…" She shook her head. "It'd take at least four just to have a chance."

"Four spirit stones is a hefty sum. And I've heard no talk of any spirit stones found in the stone circles in our clan…"

"I can venture out. I can go to the lands of the other clans, I can make haste if I must! You can mobilize the warriors to search as well-"

"-if the King isn't making an effort to search for these already, he shan't want anyone making it for him. Clearly the rot has twisted his mind… he's more concerned about word not getting out. We cannot sponsor any action to heal him, at least officially. Any attempt you make will have to be on your own. We cannot risk the King making strides against the Bear clan, not while the wolf clan requires our help."

"Then I shall take the burden. It can be done, my lord. It will just take travel… and no shortage of luck to go with…"

"Then I shall keep quiet. I've heard rumors of a mercenary camp auctioning off a major haul towards the south. It's outside of our lands, so it is quite a hike. I suspect you'll need gold if you want any chance at scoring the stone" he said, getting out a piece of parchment, scrawling a transaction onto the face of it before stamping it with the seal of the bear clan. "This writ shall provide you with 50 gold. This should be sufficient to win the stone at the bandit auction. As for the rest of the stones… I know not where you must look."

Sana took the note with some hope coming back into her face. "I can find them, my lord. The Wyld shall guide my steps"

"As it guides all of us, Scholar Sana. Be strong, sister."


End file.
